Friday, July 20, 2012

The Fairy Tree

by Sheila Connolly

Seeing as I
am half-Irish, I put a certain amount of faith in what is often called
"the luck of the Irish."That
doesn't quite capture the essence—it might better be described as
"serendipitous coincidence." Or to put it much more simply, in
Ireland, things just happen.

For
example, the first time my husband, daughter and I traveled to the small
village (when I say small, I mean about 200 people) in County Cork near where
my grandfather was born, we had no reservations and only the sketchiest of
plans.We intended to stay only one
night, and when we arrived it was pouring rain and getting dark.One hotel, with eight rooms—all filled,
because it was fishing season.The
proprietor kindly recommended…not exactly a bed and breakfast, but a home
that had two rooms that the owners rented out.They relied solely on word of mouth to fill those rooms, and didn't seem
much worried if they didn't.

They had a
room for us.No sooner had we set down
our bags and explained why we were there than the landlady said, you must talk
to my mother-in-law, who had just stopped by.Turns out she knew my family from years ago, particularly one
great-uncle, who had lived in the family house until the 1950s.Memories are long in Ireland.But that wasn't all:the landlady said, oh, I have a cousin who
you should meet.Who of course turned
out to be my second cousin, who had
been born in that family house, and who arrived the next day bearing a
four-generation family tree.See what I
mean? Serendipity.

The trip I
made last year, supposedly for research purposes, didn't turn out quite as I
had intended, thanks to missing a step in a church, but it was enjoyable
anyway.Despite a trip to Cork
University Hospital, I was still pursued by that strange luck.We had rented a cottage through an internet
agency, based largely on the fact that it was about a mile from where my
grandfather had been born.It turned out
to be a delightful house (if you're ever looking for a peaceful vacation in a
beautiful part of Ireland, this is your place—sleeps eight and comes with all
mod cons, including a Jacuzzi and a wet bar).

But there
was one of those small examples of luck that I wanted to talk about.The house was lovely, set in the midst of
fields, on the site of a long-gone farmer's cottage (the current owner
spontaneously gave me the entire history of the property going back to the mid
19th-century—and yes, it was owned by a Connolly), with endless
views of rolling hills.There were
fences dividing the fields, and along one of those fences was a lone tree.

For some
reason I was drawn to that tree.It was
visible from the spacious kitchen where I spent a lot of time with my foot on a
chair, admiring the view.I took
pictures of it, and I insisted that my husband get a close-up before we left.I put the image on a business card, and then
I didn't think much more about it until I got to talking with an Irish
short-story writer at a local Irish festival recently, and he said, it's a
hawthorn tree.

Ah.

You see,
the hawthorn occupies a particular place in Irish folklore.It's known as the "fairy tree." Even
in modern Ireland, some farmers plow a wide circle around a lone hawthorn tree,
so as not to offend the fairies that inhabit the tree (heaven help you if you
should cut one down!).It was said that
placing a sprig of hawthorn in your milking parlor would make the cows produce
more and creamier milk.It's also said
to be found near holy wells and ringforts. It's a herald of spring; its scented
flowers attract bees, and its berries sustain birds.

My
grandfather was born over the hill, in a townland named Knockskagh.Which translates as Hawthorn Hill.

I loved reading this, Sheila. Your Irish series is surely giving you more than you ever expected, and the first book isn't even published yet. I hope you'll make more trips to Ireland, and that your broken ankle was a one-time thing. :-)

We have several hawthorne trees in our yard. The bear cubs love them -- they're too spindly for the adults to climb. Hawthorne is a heart tonic, which we've prepared several times. The berries smell great cooking!